Darrel Sparkman - After the Fall

She gave him a puzzled look. “Batteries.”

“Yes. They’re little….”

She dumped the deer at his feet and he was surprised at the gruffness of her voice. “Surprise me with this. If you can climb that bluff, you can skin a deer. I’ll go clean up.” She paused, looking back at him. “I wouldn’t want to miss anything tonight.”

Later they sat on the floor of the living room, their backs against the couch. Content, with venison steak nestled in their bellies. The pale glow of an illuminated dial washed over their features. Although they might still work, Trent had elected not to try the main lights in the house. The old car batteries were still weak, and he wanted all their power for his surprise.

Katie was leaning back against him, sitting between his legs, her long hair smelling sweet and clean. “What’s this called again?”

“A CD player. Compact Disk.” He wrapped his arms around her, clasping his hands across her middle.

“And it’s just music… no words?”

Earlier he’d tried to explain the concept. “This isn’t some folk singer, banging on a banjo and singing through his nose.”

“Uh-huh. Well, let’er rip, old-timer.” Slowly the music filled the room. After a quick, and delighted, look toward the speakers, she settled back to listen. Minutes later the power stored in the batteries ran out, and she was wiping tears from her cheek. She turned and looked at him, looking deep into his eyes. “It was so sad.”

“And also very beautiful. Just like you.”

Her voice was soft. “Why? Why did you do that to me?”

He thought a minute, and the more he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he’d made a good decision. “I don’t really know. Just so you could hear something of what we’ve lost, I guess. Maybe I needed to share the sadness with someone. Or, since you’re so young,” he gave her a squeeze. “I thought you needed educated.”

She kept silent for a couple of minutes before she spoke. “It’s OK then. As long as we share.”

They were silent for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally… “What’s the name of the music?”

“ Adagio for Strings , by Samuel Barber.” He could see her mouthing the words.

“I’ll remember that.”

Turning her around to face him, he kissed her tenderly. The kiss lasted a long time. When he finally broke away, she remained with her eyes closed, lips partly open. “I want to make love to you.”

She bit him lightly on the lips. “Like on the trail?”

“No, not like on the trail. That was more like spontaneous combustion. We needed each other. This will be different, and it’ll take a long time… maybe the whole night.”

They joined and when their lips parted again, she breathed softly into him. “Sure you’re up to this?”

Her startled laughter, as he lifted her to the couch, turned into a long, soft, sigh.

The Watcher was proud of himself. It was time, and he’d found someone worthy. She came alone from one of the smaller houses surrounding the ranch of Consuelo Sanchez. A basket in hand, she was picking blackberries and stopping to pull collard greens from the bog.

When she was out of sight from the buildings, he came up behind her and hit her at the base of the neck with the edge of his hand. She dropped like a stone, her basket spilling on the path. Picking her up, her long black hair spilled over the Watcher’s shoulder. Close up, she was even better than he had hoped. Barely into her teens, she was nubile and firm, and radiated a freshness he could smell and taste. The Watcher would take his time with this one.

“John…?”

“I hear them.” He reached for his rifle as he went out on the front porch.

Horses. Single file, and coming up the trail. He stood just outside the door, leaving it open in case he wanted to duck inside in a hurry. Katie was around the corner of the house and behind the breastworks of a woodpile, making an effective crossfire if they needed one.

They didn’t. The first rider into the clearing was Chico Cruz. Behind him were ten of his men, all mounted on magnificent horses. Erect and haughty in the saddle, and sporting more guns than an arms dealer, his men looked tough and competent as they gazed curiously around the clearing.

“Light and set.” His traditional western greeting carried across the small clearing. Chico nodded to him, then shot rapid fire Spanish to his men. They headed toward some shade at the edge of the clearing, two of them breaking off to dismount and walk into the forest.

Sentries.

Bad news.

Katie, her rifle slung across her back, joined them as the two men shook hands.

He could see Chico was troubled, yet the man tried to keep up the social amenities. “This is a good place…”

Trent interrupted. “What’s happened, Chico?”

Chico sighed and took off his hat. He looked twice his age for a moment, glancing first at Katie, then back at Trent.

“On our way here, we found Hobbs. He had been dead about a couple of weeks, maybe. Someone cut him up very bad. One of our men heard screams the night he brought you in. It must have been Hobbs. Someone laid for him. We found a skinned tree. Whoever it was probably stretched a rope across the trail to trip the horse. No other sign, either, not so much as a bent twig. A bad thing, my friend.”

“Can’t figure it.” Looking at Cruz, he knew there was more. Finding Hobbs wouldn’t upset him this much.

“Alvarez.” Cruz pointed in the general direction of his men. “His daughter’s missing. She was picking berries yesterday.” He shrugged expressively. “We found the basket. That’s all.”

His stomach clenched and for a second he felt nauseous. “And no sign?”

“Nothing.” He caught Trent and Katie exchanging glances. “This means something to you?”

It was his turn to shrug. “Maybe. If she doesn’t turn up.”

Cruz looked toward his men. “She is only thirteen. Sweet, like the honey. Everyone loves her; she is like a daughter to us all. If you know something?” His eyes looked expectantly at them, a mixture of hope and dread. “Anything?”

Katie picked up the conversation. “We know of three young women who have been murdered.” She gestured toward Trent, “Going back to his wife a couple of years ago.”

Chico looked sadly at them. “Then all I can hope is that she is not found. If we never find her, there will always be hope.” His voice hardened. “The one who does this?”

He said honestly, “I don’t have a clue, not one. We just have to wait for the killer to make a mistake.”

“Raiders? Reeves?”

“I don’t think so. Starking holds them under tight control. Besides, I don’t think that is the kind of thing he would go for. Pagan Reeves? My impression is no. I mean, he could be the one, but I don’t see him wasting good womenfolk that way. He’d rather keep them around.”

“And if you catch this man?”

Trent spoke quietly, meeting the other man’s gaze. “Then I’ll be crossing that line we talked about.”

An unspoken message passed between the two men, thoughts of a conversation in another time and place. Katie watched, a puzzled expression on her face.

Reassured, Chico stood and gathered the reins of his horse. “You will go to the Springs soon?”

“Very soon.” His eyes were steady on Chico.

Chico’s face lit up in a dazzling smile. “This I would like to see.”

The group had remounted and was riding somberly away, when another rider burst into the clearing. After a short conversation, Cruz turned and rode back to them.

“We have found her.” His eyes were hard, and the muscles of his jaw kept clenching. “Please. Will you come?”