Devon Monk - Tin Swift

The man wasn’t asleep—held too damn still for that. Cedar smelled death and blood.

“Will you look at that?” Bryn asked. “Terrible way to let the draft in. Maybe we should roust him up, see if he’s breathing.”

“Maybe we should warn the womenfolk,” Cedar said.

“They’ve seen worse,” Bryn said.

That was true. Cedar took point and urged Flint down the road. More houses, none of the doors open, no other sign of people, except for the smell of blood and rot, and nothing and no one at the windows.

The town opened up into an area that had been cleared and flattened, likely for gatherings. They stopped there.

“Where do you suppose all the people are?” Rose asked. “I mean the live ones?”

“There are no live ones,” Cedar said.

“That fella laying in the doorway?” she said.

“Dead,” Bryn answered.

“Don’t think this is a place where wise men shelter,” Alun Madder said. “We’d best be moving on through.”

“Might be a thicket off east a bit,” Bryn suggested. “I’ll see if there’s anything to stand between us and the rain.”

“But we could find supplies here,” Rose said. “We need more than what we have to get the horses to Fort Boise.”

She was right. They all knew it.

Cedar nodded. “Let’s see if we can find a mercantile. Take what’s been left behind for ourselves, then check the barns for grain.”

“Might as well see if there’s liquor at hand while we’re at it,” Alun said. “For medicinal purposes, Miss Small.”

Rose shook her head. “No need to make excuses for me, Mr. Madder. I know you and your brothers polished off the last of the moonshine a week ago. And blew up your still.”

“All the more reason to restock,” he said.

“Would you help me get Mrs. Lindson into the wagon first?” Rose asked. “I don’t think she can sit the saddle for much longer and with dark coming on, I’d hate to discover she’d dropped off in a ditch come morning.”

“It’d be my pleasure.” Alun swung down out of the driver’s seat, dropping to the ground much more nimbly than expected from a man his size, and tromped over to her.

He and Rose coaxed Mae to dismount, then Rose led her carefully through the muck and mud to the back of the wagon.

Cedar stayed right where he was, one hand on his gun, his gaze restlessly searching the streets and houses for movement. The beast within him had gone still. Not because the danger had passed. No—because the danger was near upon them.

“You feel it, don’t you, Mr. Hunt?” Alun asked, coming back around the front of the wagon. He’d brought that monster of a gun with him and it rode slung across his shoulder with a wide leather strap so it could rest at his hip, in easy reach.

He took the reins of Rose’s horse and Mae’s mule from Cedar.

“The Strange?” Cedar asked.

“And more,” Alun agreed. “Death.”

“The Holder’s been here,” Cedar said quietly.

Alun’s head snapped up like he’d just been slapped. “Are you sure?”

Cedar nodded.

“How? How can you tell?”

“I can taste it on the wind. In the rain.” He could feel it in his bones too, just like he could feel the touch of the Strange left lingering in the crannies and nooks of the place. This near to a piece of the Holder, he felt like his bones were tuning forks, resonating with the awareness of that odd device.

“You’ve a promise to keep us, Mr. Hunt,” Alun began, “to retrieve the Holder.”

“I’ll see it stays kept, if it’s near,” Cedar said. “But not while Rose and Mae are in this town. Whatever thing drove off the townfolk lingers. Once the women are safe, I’ll hunt the Holder.”

“Then we best be quickly moving on,” Alun said. “See to the womenfolk.”

“This woman folk isn’t going anywhere,” Rose said, striding over from the wagon with a lit globe in one hand. “Unless it’s looking for supplies.”

“Miss Small—,” Alun said.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Madder, but my mind’s set on this. We need food. We need blankets. And any coal, bullets, or medicines this place might have stashed. Plus, there is no way in tarnation those two hayburners of yours are going to find enough to forage once we hit the snows.”

“This town isn’t a proper place for a lady such as you, Miss Small,” Alun insisted.

Rose pushed her hat back, the tips of her fingers bare and dirty at the nail though a knit glove covered the remainder of her hand.

“Look in my eyes, Mr. Madder. What you’re going to find there is exactly what kind of a lady I am. But since you’re in a hellfire hurry, I’ll spell it out quick for you. I am a very determined lady. And tonight I am determined to loot this town.”

She took the reins of her horse out of his hand, leaving Mae’s mule in his keep. Then she swung up into the saddle. “You menfolk can do what you want, but I’m going hunting.” She turned her horse into the town.

“I’ll go with her,” Cedar said. “Stay with the wagon.” He clicked his tongue and Flint started after Rose.

“There’s Strange afoot, Rose,” Cedar said.

“So you’ve said, Mr. Hunt. We have guns. They don’t. Between the two of us”—she paused and glanced off to her left, where Wil was slipping through the shadows between houses—“the three of us,” she corrected, “I think we’ll manage.”

Cedar smiled despite himself. The girl had more spunk than a pot full of peppers.

“I think that place there has a sign on it,” Rose said. “Maybe a post office and general store?”

They got close enough that the light from the globe Rose held up caught at the whitewashed letters on the sign, neatly outlined in black. “Brown’s General Store,” Rose read out loud. “Good place to start.”

She swung down out of the saddle and threw the reins over the hitching post.

Cedar did the same, cocking his gun before walking up the step to the door. “Hold the light high, Miss Small.”

She did so, the light coming down over his shoulder and dusting off the shadows. He pushed the door inward with only a bit of a creak.

The smell of death hit him hard and full in the face. In the light of Rose’s lantern, the bodies of four people lying on the wood floor came clearly into view. A man, a woman, and two young boys. Dead as dead could be.

“Oh, God rest their souls,” Rose breathed behind him.

Cedar strode into the room, but Rose hesitated. He heard her pull the shotgun she carried before stepping in.

He didn’t see anyone else in the long, narrow room. Nothing was moving, not even a scratching of rats. He crouched next to the bodies and turned the man over so he could see what injury had felled him.

The man’s eyes were missing. As if they’d been sucked out like a grape from its skin, leaving clean bloody sockets behind.

He was also missing his thumbs.

“Was it man or animal?” Rose asked, bringing the light with her. She caught sight of the man’s face and made a small sound in the back of her throat.

“It was the Strange. Or at least they smell of it.” Cedar rested the man back the way he’d been and moved the woman enough to see that she was missing both her ears and her nose. As for the young’uns, both of them had holes where their hearts should be.

“Indian don’t mutilate like this. Could be a white man who likes to collect souvenirs.” He frowned. “Not an animal, at any rate. I’ve never seen anything like this from Strange either. The injuries don’t add up to the thing that killed them. Well, except for the boys.”

The other injuries weren’t enough to kill a person right out, and certainly not enough to drop the entire family in a heap, as if they fell dead at the exact same moment.