Death's Horse Throws A Shoe

Part 9

Sheriff Davis sat in the rocking chair on the porch of the jail. Things had been quiet since Malik had escaped. The townspeople did not take him serious. No one overtly broke the law, but Davis got the feeling that they would if they could get something out of it and then laugh at him if he dared say anything. His position had become a mere title with no real clout behind it. He had let a hardened criminal go, one who had killed one of their own, and had gotten several other men killed in the process. It did not matter the Malik was probably dead, his name was still mud.

He leaned back and put his boot up on the rail, lit a cigar and watched the snow swirl in white eddies down the deserted street. No one was about. It was cold and they were either at home trying to stay warm by their fires or warming their bellies in the saloon. He did not feel like doing either. Part of him would have liked a drink or two, but the rest of him did not want to face the glares of the men that would be there, especially since some of those rode with him into those woods and were friends of Sheck.

Davis pulled his coat tight around his body and puffed on his cigar. Copperton would die, a slow, deliberate death. The ranching was not that good, there were no working mines and the Indians were a constant problem. He closed his eyes and thought about leaving. Maybe he would go back East, find an easy job and save up some money to live on for the rest of his days in relative comfort. Chicago, maybe he would head to Chicago, or even somewhere in Virginia.

He opened his eyes and standing in front of him was a rider on a black horse. Davis jumped to his feet, his hand going reflexively to his pistol. How had he not heard the approach of the horse? Surely, even with the snow cover it would have made some noise and there were no other sounds in town.

"What can I do for you, mister?" Davis asked not removing his hand from his hilt.

In a low voice, the stranger said, "I hear from the men in the saloon that you had a man named Jebediah Malik in custody."

"We did. He escaped. We tracked him to the hill but the Indians got him," Davis replied evasively.

"He kill that fella like they said?"

"Fenner? Don't know how, but he did it sure enough."

The rider looked up and Davis got a clear look of his smiling face. He had an uncanny resemblance to Malik. Aside from the dark skin and hair, they could have been related. The major difference that struck Davis, was in the eyes. Like Malik's, his eyes were crystal clear and blue, but this man had the stare of a killer. Davis' hand gripped his pistol's hilt tighter.

"You his kin?" Davis asked.

"Something like that." The rider paused, the smile never leaving his face. "You say he's dead?"

"I'm sure. We winged him and the Indians came after us. I'm sure they got to him too."

"Hmm. In the hills north of here?"

"Yep. What's your business with that outlaw?"

"Been following him for a long time."

Davis smiled, "Bounty hunter, huh?"

"It's not for money"

"Revenge?"

"An old debt that needs to be repaid."

Davis nodded, "You're more than welcome to go look for him. In fact, I insist."

The rider's smile widened. "I intend to. Oh, and I'll be taking some of your boys with me."

Confused, Davis looked at the stranger who had begun to laugh. His attention was drawn down the empty street. The saloon door slammed open and three figures lurched into the street. He immediately recognized Carson, Lewis and Barton. They staggered down the main road in Davis' direction, clearly drunk. Davis shook his head. He would have to collect them and get them home or in his cell.

As they drew closer, the rider's laugh became more maniacal. Carson, Lewis and Barton began to shake. They fell on the ground screaming, writhing and tearing at their clothes. They were covered in blood and it did not look like it was theirs. Davis ran into the street.

"Carson, what happened?" he cried as he shook the man.

He heard a tearing noise and turned to watch as Lewis' clothes began to rip apart. Davis soon discovered why. His body was twisting unnaturally. The other two men began to change as well. Each of their bodies elongating, but while Lewis started to sprout thick hair all over and turn a blue-black color, Carson was growing scales and pale green. Barton's form took on the aspect of a cactus, sickly looking spines jutted out from every square inch of his skin.

The laughter came again form the rider and Davis backed away from townsmen. He was hit by a wave of intense evil when he looked at the rider. He nearly retched onto the street.

"What have you done?"

"They are now mine, just as everyone else is mine."

The rider dismounted and walked towards Davis. The sheriff drew and emptied his revolver into the approaching man. All six shots, all direct hits, and the rider did not even so much as slow down. The stranger knocked the gun away from Davis and grabbed him by the front of his coat. Davis could see the bullets holes in the man's torso. They leaked a black ichor. Davis was lifted into the air by the rider and drawn close to his face. His breath smelled of a charnel house.

"I am the bringer of death. I am Death. With your soul and the souls of your people I will purify the world."

The rider threw Davis to the ground and the three abominations pounced on him, ripping and tearing with their claws and teeth. The rider approached and watched with interest. Davis coughed up blood and gasped for air between screams. The stranger made a gesture and the beasts backed away, licking the blood from their talons. He bent over Davis' mangled body and began chanting. Davis' breath rattled and the rider clapped his hands over his mouth. The rider opened his hands and a glowing orb lay in his palm. He stared at it then put it in his mouth and swallowed it. His body shook and emitted a faint blue glow. The glow subsided and the rider got back on his black horse. The beasts stood and waited.

"Let's go."

He rode toward the hills and the beasts lumbered along behind.