Evangeline

 

by

Jack W. Shreves

 

The wind howls savagely through the canyon, driving snow into the face of the man in the grey duster. If not for the leather tie on his wide brimmed hat, it would have been lost to the blizzard long ago. Head bent, long hair flowing out like a mane, he uses his right arm to shield his face as he pushes forward through the mountain pass. By the set of his steely blue eyes he’s all too aware that to stop and give his protesting limbs a rest means certain death. To his right he sees Evangeline pressing along, her auburn curls flapping in the wind, her face set into a mask of fierce determination. He knows she would follow him to hell, and in this cold wasteland he fears maybe she already has.

 

They crest a small ridge and the intensity of the wind increases ten-fold. The snow is more small chunks of wind blown ice than flakes now. It rakes his exposed skin, stinging his eyes. He stumbles, coughing harshly and spitting phlegm as his feet finally fail him under the weight of his pack. He drops to a knee, his already numb hands plunging into a snow bank. Evangeline passes him, her sheer determination driving her on, and in the wind he can smell her rosewater perfume. Knowing that to remain down will surely kill him he slowly raises his body and then his head. Evangeline turns towards him, her right hand pointing to a small yellow light off in the distance. Squinting against the wind, he sees what she has discovered, what he might have passed in the storm - a small cabin nestled among the towering cedars, salvation in the wasteland if only they can reach it. Rising to a stand, he starts stumbling forward, to Evangeline and the cabin.

 

With a shout the stranger in the cabin rises to a sitting position. He’s soaked in sweat and disoriented. Blinking at the unexpected light, he sees a dark shape a few feet away. As his eyes focus he finds himself staring down the barrel of a pistol. Blinking, he thinks: “I know that gun.”

 

“Not so fast,” a deep voice warns him as the hammer of the pistol is cocked, “don’t make any sudden moves.”

 

Blinking again, the stranger glances around. He finds he’s in a small wooden shack filled with rough hewn furniture and a man with a gun. Two small girls cower behind him, their wide eyes filled with terror. Turning his neck side to side the newcomer rises to a stand. The man with the gun falls back a step, hands quavering. Stretching his back the stranger pops his protesting spine. Then in a blur he takes a step forward and grabs the pistol out of the mans hand.

 

“It wasn’t even loaded!” the man shrieks.

 

Shaking his head, the stranger says in a thick Texas accent “I’ve stared down the barrel of enough guns to know when a cylinder is loaded and when it’s not. What were you thinking? Two young girls to take care of and you don’t even load a single bullet?

 

Muttering to himself he studies the pistol, then turns and finds his pack.

 

“I’m....sorry...?” the man stammers, “It’s one of yours......”

 

Glancing back, the strangers only reply is a weary sigh. Spying his holster slung on the back of a chair, he quickly replaces the pistol and buckles it on. Grabbing his duster and hat, he dresses and moves towards the door only to have the man block his path.

 

“Look, I’m sorry about that,” he begins, “but my girls.....”

 

Glancing at him the stranger nods. “Next time be more careful.”

 

“You were at the door, fevered out of your mind and nearly froze to death. I couldn’t just let you die out there, no matter who you are. I went through your pack only to find food for my girls, we’ve been without anything to eat for days. I found your guns, and to be safe unloaded them.”

 

Stopping mid stride, the stranger turns. Looking closely at the two young girls, he sees their shallow cheeks and sunken eyes for the first time. Sighing again, he sets his pack on the floor of the cabin. Facing the man he starts to say something then stops.

“Are you looking for someone? Was someone traveling with you? In the last few days you’ve called out ‘Evangeline’ a number of times. It’s been 3 days since you showed up. I don’t think anyone could survive long in that storm....”

 

A shake of the strangers head stops the man mid sentence. From behind him the scent of rosewater rises. He feels a soft presence press on his back, then a slender hand comes to rest on his shoulder as another wraps around his waist. Evangeline’s delicate chin comes to rest on his other shoulder as she looks past him at the man and his two young girls.

 

“Evangeline is the name of my wife, but she was murdered a year ago.”

 

“I’m sorry.......” the man stammers again.

 

Raising a hand the stranger stills him. From behind, the pressure slowly dissipates and the scent fades as Evangeline moves away, over to where the two small girls cower in the corner. Smiling, she gently strokes the long blonde hair of the oldest and lightly caresses the others cheek with the back of her hand. Walking back she stands before the stranger. Looking down, her hands clasped in front of her, she slowly raises her head and stares lovingly into his eyes. A thin smile crosses her lips. He knows that smile, and understands what Evangeline wants from him.

Turning back to the man he closes his eyes, exhales, and slowly shakes his head.

 

“What can I do to help?”

 

Sitting at the shacks only table the two men make introductions.

 

“My name is Thomas, Thomas Young.” The man begins. “The oldest of my girls is Rebekah, the youngster beside her is Sadie.”

 

“A pleasure ladies,” the stranger says smiling and tips his hat. Extending his hand he looks Thomas squarely in the eye, “my names Seth McAllister.”

 

“Pleasures ours, believe me.” Thomas says “We were traveling to Seattle to sell some land my parents left me when my wife became too ill to continue on. She had consumption, and we were going to sell the land in Washington and move to Arizona. Our party consisted of three families and an Indian guide. We were halfway up the mountain when my wife’s sickness........ With the weather turning, the others decided they had to make the pass before we all became snowed in. They left us our share of the food, and a little more. Two weeks ago, my wife succumbed to her illness. We buried her out back in a little clearing. One week ago, our supplies ran out. I’ve tried hunting, but there’s not a single animal to be found in this accursed valley.”

 

Brow furrowing in thought, Seth sits quietly for a moment. A thin smirk crosses his lips, and with a twinkle in his eye he looks across the table at Thomas.

 

“I know where there’s a couple hundred pounds of fresh meat,” he says, “provided you don’t mind eatin’ horse. My mare broke her ankle about ten miles or so before I found your cabin and I had to shoot her. In this snow she’ll still be good.”

 

A short time later, Thomas, Rebekah and Seth are on their way down the snow filled path. It was decided that in order to carry the most weight back at one time the oldest girl would have to accompany them. Before leaving Thomas hugs Sadie deeply, and tells the little girl to stay inside where it’s warm. Shouldering his double barreled shotgun, he trudges up the path with the others.

 

They’re a few miles down the path when Thomas asks Seth, “If you don’t mind me asking, what in the world brought you up the side of this mountain in the dead of winter?”

Keeping his eyes forward Seth mulls the question over a few minutes. Looking down at Rebekah he frowns.

“This tale isn’t one a young girl should hear.”

 

“I’m not a girl mister,” Rebekah states, “I’m a young woman. By the time my mother was my age she has already given birth to me.”

 

“Begging your pardon Ma’am,” Seth says smiling, “no offense meant.”

 

“None taken,” she says back beaming, then smiling playfully, “just don’t let it happen again!”

 

“Rebekah!” Thomas calls to his daughter in disbelief.

 

Laughing, Seth smiles at them. Then turning somber, he stares a thousand yards down the path.

 

“Remember, you asked to hear this.”

 

“Was during the war I learned I was good with a gun, so afterwards, naturally, I became a Ranger. We were stationed in east Texas on the Louisiana border when we heard about the slayings. Three of us were dispatched to investigate. We arrived in the small town of Bayonne Hill only to find a gaggle of reporters had beaten us and descended on the scene. A small farmhouse on the outskirts of town had been the sight of an unknown number of murders. Graves were found scattered across the fields, and inside the barn was a sight no man should ever behold. A half breed with delusions of being an Aztec shaman had made a wooden altar and proceeded to sacrifice half the townsfolk one by one. He cut them open and cast their still beating hearts into a furnace. The reporters were rabid with excitement, and had already dubbed this madman ‘The Butcher of Bayonne Hill’.”

 

“We sent word back about our findings and split up. I headed northeast on a tip, and after crossing the Oklahoma Territories found myself in Coffeyville Kansas. The weather had turned and a thunderstorm was brewing to the north. I hitched my horse outside a saloon and stepped inside to have a talk with the bartender. My description of the man was pretty distinctive. I was told he was tall, with long straight black hair, light skinned with sharp features and that he always dressed in black and rode a black horse. It wasn’t long before I discovered that a man fitting his description had been seen in town recently. My excitement rose and I left the bar in a hurry. I had been told that he was camping on the outskirts of town in a small valley.”

 

“The rain started shortly after I found the valley. The campfire was long cold and it was obvious no one had been there in days. I turned back towards town to take a room for the night and continue my search when the storm broke. I put my horse into a stall in the hotels livery and was stepping up onto the wood plank sidewalk when the batwing doors of the bar under the hotel creaked open. Striding out, his long black hair flowing about his head, an arm around a whore was the man I was looking for! I dropped my hand to my pistol and called his name. He jerked my ways, then ducked behind his startled ‘ladyfriend’. We drew but I couldn’t get a clean shot, the coward was holding her before him as a shield. He fired twice, hitting me in the stomach and just below my ribcage. I fell and he fled down the street into the storm.”

 

“I awoke in a room at the doctors house. Nearest hospital was over a hundred miles away and my condition was so grave I wasn’t expected to last the night. An angel appeared to me then, an angel named Evangeline. She was the doctors daughter and assistant. Together they bandaged me and nursed me back to health. As sometimes happens in such situations, an attraction grew between her and myself. She was the prettiest and kindest woman I had ever met in my life, and before long the attraction turned to true love. The town embraced me, a war hero gunned down in the line of duty, surviving to fall in love with a local girl. I was made sheriff shortly after my recovery. Six months later, after a suitable courtship, I married Evangeline.”

 

“We bought a farmhouse on the edge of town, where we dreamed of starting a new life together. At dusk we would sit on our porch on our swing, her nestled deep in my arms and we’d talk about our plans. She wanted to grow a huge garden full of flowers and get a few animals. I’d tell her I’d always wanted to get a good vegetable patch going so I could cook for her. We’d hold each other for hours, long after the sun set just talking. Silly stuff mostly, but it’s the silly stuff that means so much. I loved her with all my heart, and she loved me the same. When she died, when she was murdered, my life ended.”

 

“I returned from work one night to find the house empty. I called her name numerous times, but no answer came from inside. Looking out I spotted a light in the barn. Figuring she was tending to the horses, I unbuckled my gun belt and walked outside. Pushing the barn door open I stepped inside. A laugh echoed down from the hayloft as I spotted my Evangeline standing on top of a step ladder with a noose around her neck, her hands tied behind her back. Her left eye was swollen shut, and a small trickle of blood trailed down from the gag in her mouth. I started forward when a voice commanded me to ‘Stop!’. It was then that I noticed the rope tied to the ladder leading up into the hayloft. Standing there, with both hands grasping the end was the Butcher.

 

“Imagine my surprise!” He called down to me. “Finding you survived being shot twice! I come back to relive the glory of gunning you down, just to find you lived, became sheriff and got married! Seems you forgot all about me! That hurts!”

 

“Taking a step forward, I put my hands out. “Listen, she has nothing to do with this, let her go! It’s me you want!”

 

“It’s your heart I want ‘Sheriff’!” he yelled, “Seems I’ve already found her!”

 

“I took another step towards her and to stop me he pulled on the rope making the ladder shake. Her eyes went wild as the noose dug into her neck. Those same wild eyes pleaded with me to save her. I threw my hands up and screamed at him, “Please! Don’t do this! Kill me instead!”

 

“Kill me instead! Please don’t do this!” He jeered back, “Don’t you know how pathetic you sound? You’re worse than she is!” Raising his voice to mock her he shouted “‘Please don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt my baby!’.”

 

“My jaw must have dropped as he spoke those last words. His head cocked to the side, then he looked from me to her. Throwing his head back he bellowed his laughter. “You don’t know do you! Oh how precious is this! Well let me be the first to congratulate you ‘Daddy’, wifey here thinks she’s pregnant! Guess she was saving the news for the right moment!!!!”

 

“Well! Here it is!!!!”

 

“With a jerk he yanked the rope, pulling the ladder over. Still laughing he leapt out the hayloft door. The fall wasn’t long enough to break her neck, she hung there, convulsing. I screamed “No!” as I ran forward and grabbed her legs. She was too high up, I could only reach her calves, she couldn’t get her legs straight to take the pressure off her neck. I was screaming, sobbing, telling her to hold on. I knew what I had to do and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I let go, I had to, I had to get the ladder back under her. She kicked harder as my hands left her, she was trying to scream but the rope and the gag stopped her. I grabbed the ladder and got it under her. I climbed up and pulled her to me, but by then it was too late - she died in my arms.”

 

“I’ve been hunting him ever since, and when I do finally catch him, I’m gonna cut that bastards heart out and shove it down his throat.”

 

Tears are openly flowing down Seth’s face as he finishes his tale. No one says anything for awhile until Rebekah breaks the uncomfortable silence.

 

“How do you know where he is?”

 

Seth stiffens at the question, and with the same thousand yard stare answers her.

 

“I know,” he says quietly, “because back in Spokane I asked the local marshall if anything out of the ordinary occurred recently. He told me they had come across the body of a young boy a week before I showed up. His throat had been slit and carved into his belly was ‘Tell Seth I’m in Seattle’.”

 

It’s well into the afternoon before they reach the site where he put down his horse. Turning the last bend Seth’s hand drops to his revolver. Lying on it’s side, what remains of the horse lays scattered over the path. Something large and hungry has been at the body.

 

Thomas un-slings his shotgun and looks around warily. Rebekah turns her head from the sight. Stepping forward, Seth takes a knee and examines the horse. Bite marks wider across than his hand have torn huge hunks of horse flesh loose. The entire animal has been gutted.

 

“What did this?” Thomas asks in disbelief.

 

“I don’t know,” Seth says grimly, “but unless we want to find out we’d better fill our packs and head back. The sun will be down in a couple of hours and I don’t want to be here after dark.”

 

Drawing his knife from the sheath strapped to his left leg, he begins cutting chunks of meat off and stowing them in their packs. When they have as much as each person can carry they set off.

 

The sun is setting into the mountains when a long howl rips the silence. For the last few hours the party has been walking in silence, shouldering the weight of their packs. As one they all stop and stare into the growing gloom.

 

“There it is again,” Thomas whispers, “We’ve heard that 3 or 4 times in the last few weeks. It’s always come at night though, this is the earliest I’ve ever heard it.”

 

“We took it’s food.” Seth says. “It’s laid claim on my horse.”

 

“Was that a wolf?” Rebekah asks.

Turning to the frightened girl, Seth sets his pack down. Unbuckling his left gun belt he has her father help her attach it.

 

“Having steel on your side always makes me feel better.” Seth says smiling at the girl. “Doesn’t it?”

 

Drawing the well used pistol she cocks the hammer and points it into the gloom.

 

“Damn straight!”

 

“Rebekah!” Thomas says in disbelief.

 

Ahead in the moonlight, a shadow suddenly moves. For the last hour the party has heard something large crunching through the snow around them, sometimes to the sides, sometimes behind them. This is the first glimpse they’ve had of their pursuer.

 

With only the full moon for light Seth drops to inspect the tracks.

“Whatever it is, it’s large.” He says mostly to himself. “Must be nearly 300 pounds.... Seven to nine feet long judging by the span of the tracks....”

 

From behind them comes another howl, long and drawn out. Thomas turns and unloads a round into the night. A moment later, to the left a growl sounds. Rebekah aims her pistol but Seth puts his hand on her gun, lowering it.

 

“Only shoot when you have it in your sights.” He tells her. “If we shoot all our ammo off at guesses we’ll never survive.”

 

“It’s almost like it’s pacing us, trying to rattle us.” Thomas whispers.

 

“It is.” Seth states. “It’s staying just out of sight, but its making sure we can hear it. It wants us to know its there.”

An hour later they stop again. Ahead a heavy breathing, like the panting of an immense dog fills the air. From the darkness between the trees, just out of range of their guns, two emeralds shine out as the moon catches the creatures eyes.

 

Thomas raises the shotgun and fires again. The emeralds disappear, but a high babbling sound almost like laughter rips the night.

“How many more shells do you have?” Seth hisses.

 

“....None......I only brought the two in the gun.” Thomas says head lowered.

 

“It just disarmed you,” the man in the grey duster states, “now all we have is the two pistols”

 

From behind them, another laughing howl fills the air.

 

They’re walking closer together now, eyes wary when Rebekah suddenly says:

“Wendigo.”

 

Turning to the girl Seth asks, “Where did you hear that word?”

 

Looking to her father, she says “It’s something our Indian guide kept telling us about. We thought it was just a story to scare me and Sadie. Wendigo, it’s a spirit that lives on the winter wind and hunts people. It was a person until it ate someone, then it turns into a creature and has to eat others”

“Just a fairy tale” Thomas says, with more bravado than he feels.

 

“Maybe so,” Seth says, “but right now something is on our track, and it’s smarter than any animal I’ve ever encountered.”

 

Miles pass with no further sounds from their pursuer. Fear of a surprise attack fills Seth’s mind, and appears to be on the thoughts of the others as well. They round the last corner and finally see the cabin ahead in the moonlight. Drawing closer their joy turns to fear when they realize they can see firelight – the door to the cabin is standing wide open. Thomas sprints ahead yelling for Sadie, the others try and keep up but to no avail. He reaches the cabin first then sinks to his knees. Reaching the door Seth looks down and glimpses the pool of blood just outside the door. He can see it now, the creature realizing where they’re headed, rushing ahead to lay a trap. Sadie, unaware of the danger, has to go use the outhouse........

 

Glancing inside, Seth pushes Rebekah in roughly. Reaching out, he grabs the pistol from her and shoves it into his pocket, there’s no time to get his holster back. Dropping his pack to the floor, he grabs Thomas by the shirt and raises the man to his feet..

 

“Grab as many shells as you have. I can track this thing.”

 

The men can hear Rebekah barricading the door as they run down the path after the creature. After a short time the blood so painfully visible at the door tapers off. The creature continues its flight toward the cliffs to the west of the cabin. Shortly they reach the cliffs and stop. Panting heavily, they stop to catch their breath before continuing. Turning, Seth sees that a stream breaks over the cliff and drops a couple hundred feet into a partially frozen lake, it’s roar barely audible over the blood in his ears.

 

Looking up at the rubble, they can see where the creature leapt from boulder to boulder dragging the small body. Without a word, they start to climb. After a hundred yards they find a small trail leading along the face of the cliff, a natural outcropping that leads upward. Following it they round a sharp bend and find it ends at a crack in the sheer granite face. Seth draws his pistol, and Thomas un-slings his shotgun. Slowly they inch forward until they’re facing into the gloom.

 

“Now what?” Thomas asks, “How are we going to see into that?”

 

Before Seth can answer a deep rumbling growl assaults their ears. Slowly, slunk low against the dirt of the cave the creature emerges. Blood stains its wolf like muzzle. Long tufts of grey hair like a lynx’s rise from it’s pointed ears and eyes slit like a cats glow in the moonlight. It growls once more then scratches long black claws menacingly against the ground. Thomas shrieks and fires his shotgun, emptying both barrels into the rock just over it’s head. The beast lunges at him, locking it’s fangs into his neck. The force of the impact sends him into Seth, whose arms pinwheel in a futile attempt to keep himself from falling. His feet slip on the treacherous ice covered granite and he falls over the edge. Dimly he’s aware of his right arm snapping and he feels a couple of ribs crack as he crashes into the rocks. The snow absorbs some of the impact, but they do their damage none the less. Tumbling, broken bones rubbing against each other, blackness finally takes him when his battered body comes to rest halfway down the slope.

 

Lying on his left side, broken arm dangling uselessly, Seth comes to when a long wail rips the night. Far above on the outcropping a small tuft of snow blows into the wind. Blinking the blood from the cut over his eye, he wakes to agony. Breathing laboriously from the cracked ribs, he rights himself using his left arm. A howl echoes through the small canyon. More snow falls from the ledge above, and a dark shape is outlined against the blue snow. It howls again, then turns and races down the small path. Putting his back to the beast he runs headlong the rest of the way down the slope and into the forest.

 

Stumbling through the undergrowth, he hears the beast again, closer this time. To his right he sees blue snow shining brightly on the iced over lake. Here in the woods he’s in the creatures territory, where it has all the advantages. Turning, he stumbles out onto the snow covered ice, running towards the center of the lake. From there he’ll be able to see the creatures advance and even the odds.

 

With his back to the waterfall he drops to his knees. Reaching across his body he uses his left hand to fish the pistol out of his right pocket. He nearly faints from the broken ribs compacting together, but with a shake of his head he clears the pain. Hands trembling badly, he fumbles the cylinder open to check the shells.

With a bellow the beast reaches the lake. Howling its inhuman rage, the creature leaps through the snow covered branches and is momentarily lit against the full moon. Landing heavily on the ice, its claws dig for purchase as it skids to a halt 30 yards from the still kneeling man. Rising on its hind legs it pulls air into its massive lungs then leans forward and screams its fury. Shaking from the shock of the broken ribs, broken arm and pure terror, Seth stands and closes the loading gate of his pistol.

 

For a moment, time slows and freezes. The wind that was blowing across the lake stops and the snow hangs in midair twinkling like tiny beautiful crystals. The creatures howl drops and stretches. A long plume of breath floats lazily from the snarling, blood flecked muzzle. To his left the unmistakable scent of rosewater greets him, and a soft hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Turning, he stares into the eyes of his beloved.

A small delicate hand reaches out and caresses the stubble across his cheek. Standing on her tip toes, she leans in and kisses him lightly on his lips. Walking backwards, her form disappears, but not before he sees her lips form the words ‘I love you’. The scent of her rosewater perfume is the last thing to vanish on the wind as time resumes its normal pace.

 

Inhaling deeply, he squares his shoulders and raises his head. The wind whips his long hair away from his face and blows the grey duster out behind him. Blue eyes blaze open as he sets his jaw. Raising the gun, he dips it and cocks the hammer. Steady as a rock he turns his body sideways, pistol fully extended in his left hand. With all traces of fear gone he takes aim at the beast.

 

Lunging forward with a snarl, the creature drops to all fours and races towards the man. At 20 yards he takes his first shot. He sees a small puff of snow rise off the ice just behind the creature. Dipping and cocking the gun with a speed born of experience, he instinctively adjusts his aim and at 15 yards fires again. The tip of the creatures right ear disappears and a gash opens along its flank; merely a flesh wound. Cocking another bullet into place, he waits. When the beast closes to within five yards, so close he can count the whiskers on its fearsome blood stained and black lipped muzzle, he fires.

At the last moment its head jerks to the side and the bullet that should have crashed through its skull instead buries itself in the soft tissue between its shoulder blade and collarbone, ripping down through lung and liver. Unaware that it’s mortally wounded, the creature lunges and catches his throat in its fangs, knocking the pistol from his grip. Locked together, they crash onto the ice and slide. Freeing his knife from its sheath, Seth stabs repeatedly into the creatures’ soft belly. The creature bites down on his throat, meaning to cut through arteries and snap his neck. He swings the knife again, and the beast snorts black blood from its nose onto his face. As it bites down harder, Seth hears the first bones break.

 

He’s lying pinned under its massive weight, feeling the screams of torture from his broken arm and ribs when the crack of bone sounds again followed a moment later by another, then another. Looking up, he stares into the baleful yellow eye of the beast. It stares back, hate brimming its inhuman countenance. Suddenly Seth realizes what he’s hearing aren’t bones cracking, but ice. The creature turns its attention away from the pinned man. Staring across the frozen lake at how close they are to the waterfall, it realizes what’s happening as well. Eyes narrowing, it grips harder onto the mans’ neck. Arcing the knife he stabs into the creatures side, sliding the knife between two ribs. With a twist he locks the blade in place and holds it tightly. Eyes locked on each others, both combatants listen as the cracks grow louder and can now be felt as they spread out under their combined weight. Finally, with a boom as loud as cannon fire the ice sheet breaks and the two figures fall into the murky blackness of the lake, a small trail of bubbles the only sign of their passage.

 

Epilogue

 

Sherman is sitting outside the bar craving a drink so badly he’s literally shaking. From inside he can hear the rest of the town whooping and hollering, carrying on and having a good time. But for a legless war veteran like himself, with no pension or income, drinks only come at the generosity of others. No ones been generous to him in a long time.

 

The rain hasn’t been helping his shakes either. It’s one of those summer downpours that never seems to quit. The street is a running river of muddy water. Suddenly a razor of lightning rips the sky and the thunderclap is so close he can feel it shake his chest. In that moment of light a shadowy form on horseback appears at the edge of town. Squinting, Sherman watches as a figure wrapped in a grey duster with a wide brimmed hat approaches. The horse is reined to a stop in front of the legless figure outside the bar.

 

A gloved hand vanishes into a pocket of the duster, then reappears holding a silver dollar. The coin dances across the riders knuckles, then back again transfixing Sherman. A dollar would buy a lot of booze........

 

“I’m looking for a man,” says a road weary voice from the shadows under the hat, “maybe you’ve seen him?

 

Tall, long black hair?”

 

Sherman’s rheumy eyes light up. “Wearing all black! On a black horse! Pointy faced fellow! Yup! I seen him! The devil he is! Yup! The devil himself rode right thru here not three days ago! Turned north! I told the sheriff the devil himself was here, but that sheriff don’t listen to me no more......”

With a flick of the thumb the silver dollar flies thru the air and lands in the old war vets lap. Another razor of lightning rips the black night and in it’s silver light Sherman sees a long spill of blonde hair under the wide brimmed hat.

 

“Much obliged.”

 

Rebekah turns her mare north and follows the Butcher’s track. Three days ahead. This is the closest she’s been to him in months. He slipped through her fingers in Tucson, and she bears the scar of their encounter as a reminder. A faint scent of rosewater perfume floats to her on the night air. She first smelled the scent in that cabin where so much of her life changed. Her father and a total stranger gave their lives to save hers. Spurring her mare onward she remembers something her father taught her to believe from an early age:

“You always repay your debts.”