The Son of Earp Box Set - Books 1-3

by Chuck Buda

  Sarah held Carson’s hand and covered his eyes with the other. Carson shirked away so that he could watch James and Miss Lark kiss.

  James turned to his mother. “I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days. I’m so glad to see you.”

  Sarah brushed his cheek, feeling the stubble that seemed to grow more often on her boy’s face. “We finished up with Eleanor’s help. Are you surprised to see her?”

  “Yes, I am.” James turned back to Eleanor. “I thought you had to teach the children? And leaving wasn’t an option?”

  “I can go back to Wichita if you’d prefer it.” Eleanor huffed with her hand son her hips.

  “Please. Stay. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re both here.” James smiled and hugged both women tight.

  Carson didn’t want to be left out. So he squeezed in between the threesome and burrowed among the folds of the dresses. They all laughed.

  Chapter 7

  Sarah was relieved to be reunited with James and Carson. Watching them leave Wichita for Dodge City hadn’t been difficult in comparison to letting James go after the haunted gunslinger. But the days of absence made her heart grow fonder just as the saying went.

  A youngish man with stark red hair approached the coach as they gathered the bags. Sarah was amazed at how different the man’s appearance was. The shocking red hair which wrapped around his face in a neatly kept beard was offset by his unusually white skin tone. Sarah wondered how someone could maintain such a fair complexion with little shade trees adorning the bustling town.

  “Are you going to introduce me to your friends, James?” The man’s eyes held Sarah’s for an extended moment.

  James spun around to answer the man. “Preacher, this is my mother, Sarah Johnson. And my...friend, Eleanor Lark.”

  Sarah grasped the man’s extended hand. He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her skin. She felt the blush in her cheeks at the unexpected gesture. The Preacher man followed suit with Eleanor but Sarah noticed less attention paid to her lady friend.

  “Welcome to Dodge City, ladies. If there is anything I can do for you, please be sure to let me know.” He stared at Sarah.

  “My, is everyone in Dodge City this hospitable?” Sarah used her best flirtatious tone, partly in jest, but secretly she hoped the handsome man would understand her interest.

  “Sadly, I’m afraid not. However, this town has plenty to offer...” The Preacher spoke until James cut him off.

  “We’ve been staying in the ministry of the church. Preacher offered us the beds since everything is rented out here in town.” James raised his hat back upon his head.

  “So we don’t have a place to stay yet?” Eleanor frowned.

  “Ladies, you are welcome to join James and Carson tonight until you are able to find a more permanent home. The accommodations are sparse but cozy. I’m sure the boys could attest to that.” Preacher smiled warmly and rubbed his hands together.

  “Maybe something opened up recently. We’ve been working all day but we could check...”

  “Sorry, James.” Preacher interrupted him. “I already checked around today. Figured I would try to help you and Carson out. But everything is still rented out.” He placed a hand on James’ shoulder.

  Everyone glanced around at each other in silence. The dilemma lingered in between them. Sarah didn’t want to impose upon the Preacher and she was sure that Eleanor felt the same. Either that or Eleanor would be concerned about sleeping in a makeshift cot in a large room with other people. Sarah assumed Eleanor had never slept anywhere outside her own comfortable bed before.

  “Really. It’s not a problem. The more the merrier. We could even enjoy an evening prayer service before turning in if you would feel more comfortable.” Preacher spoke to the group but Sarah felt his attention on her.

  “If it’s not too much trouble, we would graciously accept your offer, Preacher...uh, Preacher...” Sarah realized she didn’t know his name.

  James jumped in to explain. “Just Preacher. He gave up his Christian name to serve the Lord, or something.” James stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  Preacher grinned and chuckled. “James characterized it well. Just call me Preacher.” He bent to pick up two bags. “If you follow me, I will see you to your room so you can get settled before evening.” Preacher walked toward the church.

  Sarah noticed a little nervousness in her hands. She felt like a young girl again, almost like she felt with her first kiss.

  “Carson, can you go tell Gunderson that I’ll be right back after I bring their things in? Tell him our mother arrived and I won’t be gone long.” James patted Carson’s shoulder. The boy charged back toward the Trading Post with an energetic hop in his step.

  Sarah watched Carson run before looking at James. She sensed something on his mind. “Is something wrong, sweetie?”

  James shifted his weight and leaned close to her. “I saw those looks.”

  Sarah smiled. She saw Eleanor grinning too. “What looks?”

  “Oh, mom. He’s a Preacher. And I don’t want you looking at him like that.”

  She giggled. “Oh, James. I wasn’t looking at him. He is a very nice man though. It would be a shame for such a handsome, religious man to be lonely.”

  James stopped her short as they followed far enough behind. “He’s much younger than you, you know.”

  Sarah placed her hand on her heart. “James, I’m not an old maid, you know.”

  Eleanor laughed a few steps behind them. What’s wrong with courting younger men, James?” Her remark elicited an immediate and stern look from James.

  The three of them continued on toward the church. When they arrived, Preacher was holding the door open, still clutching the bags in his arms. Sarah and Eleanor entered the church while Preacher and James carried the bags inside. Sarah glanced around at the rustic nature of the chapel. She thought that such a big city would have had a more formal-looking church. But the building appeared the same as those found in smaller towns. Probably due to the lack of funds and small congregations, she surmised. People were funny. They all considered themselves religious and could quote scriptures. But most folks were too busy drinking, gambling or whoring to support the local churches. As she quietly condemned her fellow man, she realized she hadn’t been to services in quite some time herself.

  The Preacher led them past his room into the ministry where several cots were lined up. Sarah recognized the belongings on two of the cots. She tried to imagine the boys camped out here last night. She was relieved that the room was bigger and nicer than she had anticipated. A fleeting worry crossed her mind again about Eleanor and whether she shared the same perspective.

  “Feel free to choose which bed you wish. And if you prefer those spots,” he pointed at the cots that belonged to James and Carson, “I’ll make sure to evict the current tenants on your behalf.” He grinned and then chuckled.

  Sarah and Eleanor laughed at the joke. James scowled at Preacher. Sarah wanted to pinch him for such poor behavior around a holy man. Then she caught Preacher staring at her.

  The nervousness danced within her belly.

  Chapter 8

  The burning filled his mind. So many urges vied for attention. Preacher braced himself against the door, fighting the demons that struggled to win control.

  Sarah. What was it about her? Desires deeper than lust tore at his heart. Thoughts of the woman consumed him. He felt like a wolf with an unsuspecting bunny just feet from his snout. Her scent filled his nostrils. The soft skin dripping between his fingers like milk poured into a jar.

  Preacher had set up the newcomers in the ministry with James and Carson. Sarah chose a cot next to James. He couldn’t help but notice that Sarah appeared to wedge herself between her son and Miss Lark. It had been imperceptible until he caught the disappointment in Miss Lark’s eyes. She had made her way toward the cots nearest James and then Sarah stepped ahead and claimed a bed next to him. He found it odd that Sarah was more concerned wit
h James and Miss Lark than Carson. An observation he would have to learn more about in the days to come.

  The fact that they were together caused a bit of concern for him. It would be more difficult to pick off members of the herd when they traveled together. But he wondered if he could make it work to his advantage. If he could turn one of the travelers into his minion then he would use more subtle persuasive tactics to reach his goals. Sheep in wolves clothing, he smiled.

  Preacher stared at the crucifix on the wall. It spun in circles as the forces of evil swarmed around him. He found it hard to wield the powers when his senses were overwhelmed with blood lust. The evil was far more controllable in an intimate setting, he and his prey alone. With several choices nearby, it was all he could do to keep the forces at bay. The need to reveal themselves openly wrestled with his self-control.

  He approached the dresser and unscrewed the cap on the vial of holy water. Dipping his finger into the narrow opening, the burning focused on his fingertip. A hiss of steam billowed out past his fist. He bit the inside of his lip to keep the scream buried deep within his chest. His breathing became erratic.

  Years of practice were not always enough to maintain his human persona. The serpent was strong and his pact with the devil was even stronger. The Dark One would never release him. And it was clear that the Lord had forsaken his soul. All measures of atonement had been ignored and he was left to fend for himself against something more powerful than man could imagine.

  Preacher returned the vial to the dresser. Thoughts of splashing it over his skin washed away. He knew it would only cause him pain. It would have no effect on his disposition or his situation. He kneeled before the cross on the wall. It pegged in an upside down posture, the face of the Son of God stared down at him with sadness. The words of the Dark One flew from his lips. Only he understood their meaning. If others were to overhear it, the words would sound like a humming murmur of unintelligible noises. Low and irritating, like a lover’s moan.

  He felt the fire work its way to his face and head. His neck flushed with heat. Then the flames burst upon his scalp and cheeks. The flaming head spoke in demonic tongues, mocking the crucifixion on the wall. His eyes rolled back in the sockets revealing blackness and pure evil.

  It was gone.

  Preacher fell to the floor, gasping for air. Tears of relief washed from his eyes. Sweat covered his body and he felt his shirt soaking against his skin. Remnants of steam drifted from his body. He remained prone on the floor, enjoying the cool dampness of the wood. Preacher tried to listen carefully in between gasps to hear if the visitors had discovered his solitary battle.

  A soft laugh and the sounds of Miss Lark talking to James from down the hall. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to compose himself once more.

  Times like this forced Preacher to re-think his life and the choices he had made. He had been innocent, long ago. And then it disappeared. His intentions were pure but the decisions were flawed from the beginning. Years had passed but he still paid for his sins. And he would continue paying for them until the very end. He recalled someone from his past commenting that one should be careful what they wished for. Sound advice. He knew that now. Too bad it was too late to heed the warning.

  Preacher dragged himself to his feet. He glanced at the wall. The crucifix hung properly. Undisturbed. Like nothing had happened. He used the knob to pull himself up the door. He pressed his ear to the wood and listened to the conversation that carried on down the hall. Things were safe. For now.

  He needed to formulate a plan to conquer and divide his guests so that he could maximize the carnage. The feeding could only be delayed but not denied. It would be no use trying to take them all at once. If he could pull it off, then he would do it. The idea of all that power drawing into his body at a singular moment was dizzying. He would be unstoppable if he could do it. But any chance of keeping his ruse under wraps would be cast out with the dirty water. The beast summoned upon such an altar would demand recognition. It would need to bend all within sight to its will. The shadows would be usurped by the outright darkness of the evil flowing so strongly.

  Preacher was exhausted. He shuffled to his bed and flung his body upon the thin mattress. His face was buried in the pillow and he attempted to slow his breathing and settle his mind. Tomorrow would be a big day. A day of beginnings for him. And endings for others. He breathed deeply, satisfied that the monsters had left him to recover.

  As Preacher’s breathing returned to normal, a cadence of sleep taking over, Carson stood outside, pressed against the window.

  Chapter 9

  James watched Carson shuffle the cards. The usual expediency of the small hands was replaced with malaise. Carson looked as if he were far away from this spot behind the ministry. James shifted on his bucket, the lip of the wood digging into his back side.

  Carson dealt the cards between them. He picked up his hand and looked it over with disinterested eyes. James rubbed his fine stubble, staring at the boy. He finally decided to pick up his own hand to check out what horrible cards he had been given. The usual. A bunch of crappy cards, James sighed to himself.

  He tossed the cards, face side up in the dirt. James knew what would come next. Carson would pretend that James had finally beaten him at poker, only to reveal he was holding five aces. Even if only four aces were in the deck. Instead, Carson laid his hand down over James’ cards. It was a straight flush.

  James waited for Carson to gloat and tell him he should have paid attention. James hated when Carson said that. He always paid attention and somehow, the little boy always came out on top. But no gloating or chiding was forthcoming. Carson just scooped up the cards and began shuffling for the next round.

  “Something on your mind, Carson?” James shifted on the bucket, certain that a shard of wood had splintered off in his rear.

  Carson glanced at James and shook his head. He didn’t utter a sound.

  James knew this behavior wasn’t normal. Carson wasn’t one for sitting quietly, especially when they were alone, playing cards.

  “Spill it.”

  “I don’t want to.” Carson huffed and slammed the deck of cards down.

  James raised his eyebrows. Carson rarely got surly but when he got grumpy, James found it difficult to get him to cooperate with anything.

  “You were fine a little while ago. Did I do something to upset you?”

  Carson shook his head.

  “Is it mom?”

  Carson shook his head.

  “Eleanor?”

  Carson shook his head.

  “Then what is it? You’re pouting like you ate a sour pickle. I can’t help you if I don’t know what your problem is.” James scuffed some dirt at Carson’s boots to egg him on. It didn’t work.

  Carson just stared at James.

  “Just as well. I’m tired anyway. I’m going to bed.” James stood up.

  “Preacher.”

  James felt a stir in his gut. “What about Preacher? Did he say something to you?”

  Carson shook his head.

  James worried about things unmentionable. But he had to know. “Did he...touch you?” James tried to make it sound like rough-housing touching as opposed to something more insidious.

  Carson shook his head.

  James slapped his dungarees in frustration. “Speak, Carson.”

  Carson gathered the cards from the dirt and brushed them against his leg. He didn’t look at James as he answered. “I sawed him in his room.”

  “You saw him, not sawed him. And what were you doing snooping around in his room?”

  “I didn’t go in his room. I looked in the window.” Carson pointed behind himself rather than indicating along the side of the building.

  “You shouldn’t look in people’s windows on account you might see something that can’t be unseen.”

  Carson stared down at his boots. James tried to take a different tack to avoid Carson feeling ashamed. “Tell me what you saw. In P
reacher’s room.”

  “I sawed him on fire.”

  James was incredulous. He was tired and frustrated with Carson’s silence. And now Carson was making up stories? This is crazy, he thought.

  “You saw Preacher on fire?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Was he hurt?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “So Preacher is on fire, but he didn’t get hurt?”

  Carson nodded, his scared eyes pleading for James to believe him.

  James shook his head. “I’m too tired for games, Carson. Let’s go to sleep.”

  Carson tugged James’ sleeve. “I sawed him.” He whispered as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear him.

  “Okay. Okay. What else did you see?”

  “The cross thing.”

  “The cross thing?” James had no idea what Carson was talking about.

  “The cross thing what hangs on the wall. It spinnered.”

  “The cross thing on the wall spun?” James asked in total disbelief. He thought the tale was growing wilder by the second.

  “Uh-huh. And it stopped the wrong way.”

  “The wrong way?”

  Carson used his foot to draw an upside down cross in the dirt. James stared at the symbol but couldn’t make heads or tails of what Carson was telling him. “I don’t even know what that means, buddy. Let’s go to sleep and we can talk about it again in the morning. Okay?”

  Carson shrugged. His expression showed his disappointment. James wondered if he should offer to help Preacher.

  “You wanna go check on Preacher to make sure he is alright?”